


Broadening horizons

by EmeraldFox



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Ancient magic, Beauxbatons, Dark Magic, Durmstrang, Gen, Harry Potter Goes to Durmstrang, Other Characters - Freeform, Parseltongue, Three School Exchange Program
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-06-24
Packaged: 2018-11-18 03:51:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11283195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldFox/pseuds/EmeraldFox
Summary: In Harry's fourth year, Hogwarts, Durmstrang and Beauxbatons take part in a Three School Exchange Program. The Trio is separated, forced to grow into their own, discovering their true potential.Harry is pushed into the bigger world of obscure magics and esoteric magical cultures.(Magical world exploration, dark magic, parseltongue, no pairing as of yet but expect people being LGBT+, because pride month.)





	1. Chapter 1

Staring out of the window, listening to the sounds of the train thundering through the countryside, Harry was happy. After an eventful and emotional rollercoaster of a third year, with Sirius, Dementors and werewolves, the summer was as laid back as a Dursley summer could be. The amazing Quidditch Cup certainly improved his mood, though, what with the Weasleys, seeing wizards and witches from all over the world, and, well… Quidditch! Enough said.

So it could be said, Harry was enjoying his ride to Hogwarts very much. Even Malfoy hasn’t made his yearly round to the compartment he and his friends were occupying, yet. With a happy sigh, Harry sent a wistful prayer to forces known and unknown to keep it that way.

Maybe this year would be his year.

Harry’s good mood persisted well through the ride to the castle, listening to his friends bicker. He wasn’t completely sure what their argument was about, but since they haven’t made any overtures to include him, he decided not to care and stay in his happy place.

Hogwarts was as magnificent as ever, he decided, looking at the looming castle, illuminated windows shining like burning stars through the darkness. Jumping out of the carriage, the three friends made their way towards the Great Hall, the thrumming crowds of students overwhelming yet reassuring at the same time. The atmosphere at the Gryffindor table was warm and welcoming, and soon everyone around Harry was seated and waiting for the first years to arrive.

“Hey, is that the new DADA professor?” said Ron, nudging him with an elbow from his right. “No, wait, there are two of them. Do they need to replace someone else, too? Well, Hagrid’s still here…”

Harry leant around his friend and quickly saw what he meant. There were two new wizards at the table, one older and, quite… disfigured, for the lack of a more polite term. He was quite literally riddled with scars and obviously missing one eye, as the bulging, quickly rotating one clearly wasn’t his own. The other was a younger blond man wearing large glasses, with a cheerful disposition and relaxed manner.

“Huh, I’ve no idea,” he shrugged.

The sorting proceeded without further ado, but with a vaguely impatient tension in the air. At last, the Headmaster stood and smiled genially at the students, welcoming them all to the new school year and announced it was time for dinner.

During the meal the speculation turned even wilder, rumours spreading that the wizards are from the Ministry and something big was going to happen this year. Hermione especially appeared impatient, staring at the Head table as if she could force the answers out of them with the power of her mind.

At last, the meal was finished and Dumbledore stood.

“Again, I welcome you all! And now, I have a few introductions to make. First, let me present to you, Alastor Moody, your new Defence against the Dark Arts professor. At my request, he came from his retirement from Auror corps to teach the young minds how to best defend themselves. I hope you welcome him.”

Whispers filled the Great Hall, from excited to bewildered to slightly fearful. The man certainly seemed scary and an Auror to boot!

After a time, Dumbledore raised his hand. “Quiet, please! Thank you. And second, I would like to welcome Mister Charles Davis, Head of the Department of Magical Education.”

Mr Davis stood at the applause, and before the Headmaster could continue, announced, “Thank you for this warm welcome! This year, we at the Ministry have prepared a treat for you all. Our Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, and the Department of Magical Education, together with the committee of International Cooperation, have arranged the first international three-school Exchange program! This year, each and every one of you, third year and above, will have a chance to complete your schooling at one of the two other great schools of magic in Europe. The first is the Beauxbatons School of Magic, and the other is Durmstrang Institute.”

Applause and cheers filled the great hall, students chattering amongst themselves, some gleeful some thoughtful. Harry himself was quite stunned. His view of the wizarding world was quite limited, he realised that at the Quidditch world cup. Seeing all those witches and wizards, styles of dress and languages, have been quite a shock to him. Until that moment, for Harry, the wizarding world has been amazing and oftentimes overwhelming, but also comfortably small. It encompassed Diagon Alley, the village of Hogsmeade, Ron’s house the Burrow, and of course his first true home, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

The thought of other wizarding schools was a surprise, and perhaps a bigger one than it should be. He knew there must be other schools of magic, but he always heard people saying that Hogwarts was the best school for young witches and wizards in the world. With, of course, the best and most powerful wizard at its helm, headmaster Dumbledore.

“This year, it is the year of friendships! You are encouraged to apply in the exchange program, and seek new friends and acquaintances in other schools, or you may stay here, and warmly greet the students coming to Hogwarts. To all of you, eager to broaden your horizons, we have prepared an artefact that will gather your applications and choose which of you will spend a year in these amazing schools. The application procedure is as follows: you must write your name on a piece of parchment, along with the name of the school you wish to attend this year. You can write more than one, but number them from your most to least favourite. Place this parchment inside the Choosing Urn, which will be waiting for you starting tomorrow, in the room across from the great hall.

I caution you all, an age line was placed around the Urn, so first and second years, sorry, you are out of luck. Maybe when you are older we will do this again! To all others, the application process will last until 15th of September and the next day at dinner, we shall announce the results! For now, I believe, that is all. Have an amazing and adventurous year, everyone! Thank you!”

* * *

 

The following days were chaotic. Owls were everywhere, students eagerly contacting their parents for permission to enter the exchange program, or simply sharing the news.

Harry was the most baffled by Hermione. She usually spent most of her time with him and Ron, but now she was always in the library or even gossiping with other students. It didn’t take long to become clear that participating in the Exchange was her new life goal. Every evening she joined her friends before the fire and regaled them with information about the other schools, especially Beauxbatons in France.

The professors didn’t appear to appreciate the overall enthusiasm, since their students didn’t pay much attention to their studies. It wasn’t until Professor Moody cursed a pair of Fifth years bald and then refused to reverse it until they turned in their assignments, that things changed. Particularly because the school Mediwitch didn’t manage to cancel the curse and it took them a week to complete all the missed homework.

But it was one class that all students dutifully attended, Charms. Professor Flitwick was tasked to teach all years third and above, the Translation charm. They worked in two ways; the easier way was casting the charm on the person you are talking to, and you will hear their words in your language. The harder version was casting the spell on oneself, thus being the focus of the spell. With practice, you might be able to even speak with more people at the same time.

At the end of the first week, Ron got a letter from home. It was given to him by the Twins, who looked oddly subdued, at odds with their usual cheerful selves.

“What is it?” asked Harry. Hermione wasn’t with them, opting to return to the library before it closed for the day.

“It’s mum. She’s saying none of us can go, we are to stay at Hogwarts. I don’t really care, I don’t wanna go, but Fred and George are fuming.” he grumbled. Mrs Weasley always seemed motherly but strict, so Harry wasn’t really surprised.

“What about Percy? Did he want to go?”

Ron snorted. “No way! He says it would be a distraction. His dream job is at the Ministry, licking minister's boots, so it’s best he stays here.”

* * *

Harry didn’t know how it happened, but the rest of the days flew by as quick as snitches in the Quidditch game. Classes were time-consuming, as if the teachers took the fact that they will be losing some of the students as a challenge to cram as much knowledge into their heads as possible. Despite that, there was a constant buzzing in the student body, an impatient expectancy that filled the common room and made the meals especially loud and lively.

Harry was sitting at dinner, thinking glumly about the potion essay that was due in two days, already picturing Snape’s disgusted sneer and a red T he is going to get for it. There was simply no hope, the greasy potion master was worse every year, but turned especially mean after the fiasco with Sirius in the Shrieking Shack.

As such, he was surprised to be roused from his depressing thoughts by a glaring Hermione.

“Harry, did you give your application yet? I certainly didn’t see you. Today is the last day, you know! You were supposed to try and come with me to Beauxbatons. This is an amazing opportunity…” she scolded him, brows furrowed.

“Give it a rest, Hermione.” interrupted Ron, annoyed. “So he doesn’t want to go. So what? I’m not going either! He should keep me company! All you are going to do is read and study over there, where is the fun in that? I heard there will be some kind of interschool Quidditch tournament going on. Harry is out best seeker, he has to stay!”

“UGH!” hissed Hermione, enraged. “Quidditch! This is a priceless chance to learn about different cultures. And magic! How can you be so, so… pig-headed!”

“Yes, great magic learning, can’t wait. Learning to cook and dance in that French school like a girl! Or even better, learn lots of dark magic at Durmstrang, let’s all go there! It’s gonna be brilliant!” barked back Ron sarcastically, his face going as red as his hair. Hermione glared at him, twisting her spoon as if she wanted to murder it and wishing it was her friend’s throat. The redhead, seeing that, just sneered and turned back to his mashed potatoes, spearing one viciously with a fork.

When the pair of outraged eyes turned to him, Harry raised his hands in surrender.

“All right, all right.” He grumbled. “I will write the application. See? Right now. There is still a chance I won’t be chosen anyway. Just calm down, okay?”

Under Hermione’s watchful eyes he pulled out a crumpled piece of parchment, scrawled on it the appropriate schools and stood up.

“Well, coming?” he asked his friends. Ron grumbled and looked away, but Hermione stood and followed after him, pace determined and head forward. They crossed the entry hall, through the doorway and went straight to the Urn. In a few steps, Harry was straight before it, and with a quiet sigh, he dropped the parchment inside. With a small burst of white light, it vanished.

* * *

The next day all classes have been cancelled, as the professors obviously realised that no attention will be spared for their lectures. For Harry, that meant a day spent in the air, flying around on a broom, turning and diving and letting his thoughts stay far below on the ground.

Ron was in the common room, challenging firsties to games of chess and then viciously beating them. Hermione was at the library, cramming the last bits of knowledge into her head, anything that might help her in a foreign country.

When the western sky started to gain the rosy colour of sunset, Harry picked up his broom and with a heavy sigh made his way to dinner. On his way through the common room, Ron joined him, judging by his expression in an even worse mood than he was before.

“I don’t get it!” the redhead exclaimed as they descended down the moving staircase. “Why would she want to go? Hogwarts is the best school of magic in the world, everyone knows that! If she is so concerned about her education, she should just stay here! And besides, these exchange students are coming here too. She can pester them about foreign magic and stuff, and leave the two of us alone.”

Harry just shrugged, not entirely sure what to say. He tried to figure out how to calm his friend down, but in the end only managed a quiet “we’ll see how it goes, it’s too late now to do anything about it anyway. Maybe none of us will be chosen and it’s a moot point.”

It wasn’t the most soothing thing he could say, and by the look of him Ron thought the same, but he quieted down with a grumble.

They entered the Great hall together, and Harry was quite surprised at the scene that opened up before him. The Hall was decorated even more lavishly than at the end of the year, but quite different than the festive feel it had during the Christmas holidays. There were great banners depicting the four houses above the tables and on the walls, and on the wall behind the professor’s table, there was a great banner with the Hogwarts crest on it.

Harry made his way to the Gryffindor table where he noticed Hermione intensely studying the professor’s table. He sat across her and followed her gaze. There were four new people there and it was fairly obvious who they are. Two of them were women dressed in bright silk, one beautiful with golden flowing hair and relaxed expression, the other older and reminding Harry of McGonagall, if his professor ever wore such flowy silvery robes. He assumed they were representatives from the French school, the same as the other two were from Durmstrang. Both were dressed in fur-trimmed coats, the older grey man with a blank expression in pure black one, the younger one with an ever-present smirk wearing deep red colours.

The Gryffindor turned back to his friends when the noticed the suspicious silence that covered their part of the table. Ron was scowling again, this time aiming at the new guests, and Hermione was pointedly ignoring him, but sparing her dark haired friend an encouraging and proud smile. Harry felt a spark of irritation at being caught in his friends’ silent (or not so silent) war, where no outcome will turn out favourably for him. Staying or leaving, one of his friends will turn out disappointed.

Dinner progressed much in the same vein until the food on the tables disappeared and a hush fell over the students, excited and impatient. Doors of the Great Hall burst open and through them, Filch was seen pushing an elegant wooden cart, on which stood on object covered in rich blue fabric. Huffing and puffing, the caretaker managed to make his way to the front of the room, where gathered the headmaster, Professor McGonagall and on each side of them two and two visiting representatives. The ministry official jovially made his way forward and took over the placing of the cart, obviously going for the most dramatic effect.

“Students, witches and wizards, please welcome our friends from most noble schools Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, professor Elmire Engelbert and student representative Jeannine Ballet, and deputy headmaster Kostya Orlov and student representative, Volya Volkov.”

The applause started as the women bowed and the men made a fist with their right hands and thumped themselves across the chest in greeting.

“And now,” continued Mr Davis, his voice carrying across the hall, “the moment you have all been waiting for, the choosing ceremony. Everyone that was chosen, please, gather before the representatives of your new school. Let us start. Headmaster Dumbledore, if you please?”

Dumbledore took the centre stage, smiled in greeting, and with one sweeping motion uncovered the great bowl. “Let the choosing begin!” he exclaimed, and the din among the students quieted and a hush fell upon the room.

Then the Urn caught fire.

It was the same deep blue colour as the fabric that covered it, until in a flash of white a piece of parchment shot out of the flame. The headmaster caught it and so it began.

“Katie Bell, Beauxbatons!” Amongst the clapping and whistling Katie made her way to the front, where she was greeted by the women with a smile.

And so on it went, Harry quickly losing track of who was who as more students went to one or the other group. That was until the first Gryffindor was chosen for the Durmstrang group, a girl in their year, Fay Dunbar. A hush fell across the Gryffindor table and all the heads turned to follow her as she made her way to the front. Harry didn’t know much about her, aside from her being a Quidditch fanatic and sharing a room with Hermione. Right after her, the bowl chose Draco Malfoy, which broke the strange mood. Next to him, Ron snorted and mumbled something about evil bastards and traitors in Gryffindor.

“Hermione Granger for Beauxbatons!” called Dumbledore next. Harry looked to his friend as she squealed in a way that was quite unlike her. He couldn’t help but grin and congratulate her, seeing how excited she was. He reached across the table to squeeze her hand before she stood and left the table.

Harry didn’t even look Ron’s way to see his reaction, finding it more prudent to be happy for one friend, as he will obviously have to listen to the grumbling of another for a whole year. The groups of exchange students were now quite large, at least ten each. A few more and it will be over.

“Harry Potter for Durmstrang.”

Harry choked. What?

He looked to Ron, who was staring at him, eyes wide and mouth open. Some distant part of him thought he must look exactly the same. His eyes found Hermione’s and she looked stunned too, then quickly motioned him to stand. Shaken, he did as told, and marched to his group. He thought he might be in shock, as the next moments were a blur of faces and colours. He couldn’t pay any attention to the end of the choosing. He only woke from the daze when the group started moving towards the exit and he went with the flow.

In the doorway, he felt a hand in his and turned to see Hermione, gripping him hard wearing a determined expression on her face.

“This will be great, you’ll see,” she said firmly. “We will learn so many things, and then we will compare notes.”

Somehow Harry managed a smile. With a sympathetic “we’ll talk later” she let go as their groups split again and he followed, not feeling much better.

“Hey, Potter!” He turned to see that Dunbar was walking beside him, studying his face with inquisitive eyes.

“Didn’t think you will be chosen?”

“No, not really,” muttered Harry. “I only applied because of Hermione. Figured it wouldn’t be so bad in France and I was a bit curious. Never thought I’ll get Durmstrang though.”

“Well, it’s not really any surprise.” At his questioning look, she rolled her eyes. “How many Gryffindors do you think wrote Durmstrang on their forms? I know of two, besides me. McLaggan over there and some seventh year, but he isn’t all that good a student, and I know that grades were a factor in the choosing. So the bowl didn’t have much to choose from. On the other hand, half of our house wanted to Beauxbatons. Hermione qualified, obviously, but you didn’t. No offence.”

“None taken,” said Harry faintly, wincing internally. He remembered now, he wrote both schools in the hurry, didn’t really think what it would mean.

To take his mind of his blunder he turned to Dunbar and asked, “What about you? Also wanted Beauxbatons?”

“No, not really. I want to be an Auror and Durmstrang has best physical education out of all the schools. Also duelling. That thing in our second year was a disgrace, but in Durmstrang it’s mandatory.”

“…oh.” Blinked Harry. “But most of Gryffindor won’t be exactly supporting, will they? What about your friends?”

Dunbar snorted. “I want to be an Auror, Potter. I will be an Auror, and I’m brave enough to weather some dark looks to achieve my dream. If that isn’t Gryffindorish enough for some of them, that isn’t my problem. These few years of schooling left is nothing compared to the life ahead, and I better have all the tools I need to succeed in my dreams. That’s what my father says and I happen to agree.”

“Hmm, I suppose. Didn’t think about it that way.” Harry hummed. The girl just shrugged.

Deputy headmaster Orlov led them to one of bigger classrooms, which, once Harry was inside, was obviously rearranged with exchange students in mind. It was still in the shape of a classroom but now contained only twelve seats, along with a raised podium for the Durmstrangers. While taking a seat, Harry took the time to look over the other students. Most he didn’t know, with a few bright exceptions, such as Draco Malfoy. Dunbar took a seat next to him.

“I am Deputy Headmaster Orlov. You may call me Professor Orlov in the classroom, or if you have questions about classes. Otherwise, call me by my proper title. You are students of Durmstrang now and will be for a year. You will obey the rules of our school, or you will be expelled and returned back to Hogwarts. You will do well in classes, or you will be expelled and returned back to Hogwarts. That is our way. Education is a privilege, and you must be worthy.” He glared at them, his previously blank face transformed into a firm glower. In the silence, Harry heard someone gulp. After a time it took to make a lasting impression, Professor Orlov’s expression relaxed and he continued in an even tone.

“You have the whole of tomorrow to pack everything you need. There is no need to worry about warm clothing, as we employ a man that makes all school uniforms, classroom and exercise ones. At your own expense, he will make anything else you will need. You are not allowed to bring any pets along with you. We leave the day after tomorrow. We will meet in the entry hall at 9 o’clock sharp. All who are late will stay behind. Durmstrang does not tolerate slackers and layabouts.”

Harry had a horrible thought that Professor Orlov might be a cross between McGonagall and Snape. He winced.

“All questions you may have, tomorrow or during the year, you may forward to Volkov here. It is his job to guide you, not the professors’. If a professor is needed he will forward you to them. Is all clear? Good.” He didn’t wait for an answer, but instead stomped out of the classroom and slammed the door behind himself.

Volkov cleared his throat, and the students who stood up at the abrupt exit sat back down.

“Now to the first important business. You all know how to cast the translation charm? You will be taught a different one because I heard yours is only good if you are listening to one other language. In Durmstrang, we have students from all over Eastern Europe, so multi-directional translation charm is needed, called Allspeak. There are Allspeak charms built into the walls of every classroom, but if you want to talk to fellow students you will have to learn it. A word of caution: Allspeak works best if it is cast by all participants in a conversation. Now pay attention!”

That was how the first Durmstrang magic lesson began. At the end of an hour, only five students were capable of casting the charm, and the group was dismissed soon after. Before they parted, Harry got a nasty grin from Malfoy, one of those who managed the charm.

“You’ll be dead before the month is up, Potter. And I get to be in the first row. What fun!” he jeered.

Harry clenched his fists until they hurt, but turned away without comment. He made his way to the common room with Dunbar and McLaggan, a boy year older than him with a haughty expression and quick step.

Yes, this will be just great.


	2. Chapter 2

It was quite a shock, going from the dark silent corridors of the castle into a brightly lit and the noisy common room full of people. When all three of them entered through the portrait there was a moment of silence, then a bombardment of noise, as people came to them, full of questions and curiosity. In quick order, they were showed to the centre of the room and Harry had a vague sense he should make a run for it when he stopped at the sound of his name being shouted over the din.

“Harry! Hey, let me through, move! Harry, what took you so long, we came back half an hour ago. What did they say?”

It was Hermione, pushing her way to his side and snagging him by the sleeve.

“Harry,” she said, quietly now that she was leaning closer to him. “Are you alright? You looked so confused, what happened at the choosing?”

He shifted his weight, uncomfortable. “I… uh. Well.”

Hermione stared at him until it became obvious he’d not be saying anything else, then looked at the gathered crowd, all circled around Dunbar and McLaggan, some scowling and angry, others just appearing baffled. A few were also staring at Harry with distrust.

“Right, come on.”

She motioned towards the boys’ dorms and her friend followed.

They settled on Harry’s bed in a seemingly empty room and with a groan, Harry threw himself backwards so he was laying on his back. His hands reached up to tangle themselves in his hair, tugging in frustration.

“Well?” encouraged the girl after he had a moment to calm down.

“Well, apparently it’s my fault. I… I didn’t even mean to apply, you know!? Gah! And then you insisted, and it wasn’t like I actually thought I would be chosen, so I just scrawled something on that piece of parchment to get it out of the way, I didn’t think!” He turned over so he was lying on his stomach and buried his face in the pillow.

“So you did actually write Durmstrang? I mean, you must have, but mistakes happen. I just wanted to be sure,” said Hermione gently, leaning against a bedpost.

“Yes apparently… But I did write Beauxbatons first, I am sure of it. But then Dunbar said that they needed someone from Gryffindor for Durmstrang, and almost nobody applied, so I got picked.” He lifted his head to look at his friend imploringly. “What do I do, Herm? I don’t think I want to go! I mean, it would be fine if I had to go to France with you, but this is on the other side of Europe. And with Malfoy, Hermione! Malfoy! And do they really teach Dark magic there? I don’t want to learn Dark magic. And Ron will be pissed if we both leave.” His head hit the pillow again. Then he quickly rolled on his side again.

“Not that I have anything against you going, I know you really want to go. We would write all the time, you would surely send me loads of French books. But I can’t even take Hedwig with me now, we are forbidden to bring pets…”

“Oh calm down Harry. Breathe,” Hermione interrupted him, shuffling closer to lay a hand on his shoulder.

“Look… I did study the Durmstrang curriculum as well as the Beauxbatons’s one. I was curious about all those rumours. And, I mean, some look sort of true, but it’s more like…” She quieted in thought, absently patting his shoulder.

Harry sat up and arranged himself against the cushions. It was calming, trusting Hermione to use her knowledge to calm him down. If that made sense.

“Durmstrang is… is some kind of political, military academy, sort of. It’s hard to explain, but that is the feeling I got, in Muggle terms. How should I put it? Hogwarts is the only school in the British Isles, including Ireland, and pretty much everyone is invited, purebloods, muggleborns, rich and poor. There are some who choose to not go and they try to get apprenticeships, taking an OWL exam if they want to keep their wands. But everyone else goes to Hogwarts.”

She looked at him, searching his eyes, probably to make sure he was following her explanation. After a beat, she nodded and continued, her voice even as she relayed the knowledge.

“It’s not the same in Durmstrang. It hints at it in the name, Durmstrang Institute. It’s an elite institution for learning that accepts promising, rich and pureblood students from all over Eastern Europe, from Finland, Russia, to Bulgaria.” She scrunched her nose in distaste.

“At first I thought that was horrible because it is not that big a school and it sounded like a lot of kids didn’t get the right education because they weren’t “elite” enough. But that doesn’t seem to be the case. Almost all of these countries have their own schools and you can actually transfer to Durmstrang if your grades are high enough or you have special skills. For example, I looked up Victor Krum, since Ron wouldn’t stop talking about him.”

“You looked up Krum? The Quidditch player?” Harry interrupted her, incredulous. “Really?”

“Yes, yes.” She rolled her eyes. “I wanted to know what the fuss was about after I learned he went to Durmstrang. Anyway, he isn’t rich or anything. His parents are magical loggers, apparently, supplying wood to wizarding craftsmen, including broom makers. He was a very talented player even when he was a child, a prodigy. A bit like you, I guess, Mister Youngest Seeker of a Century. He got noticed by a former Durmstrang student employed in sports business and recommended to the Headmaster. Apparently, he would never have succeeded without the connections he made there. It’s not exactly fair, but I suppose it makes sense. Quidditch is a big business and a lot of people want to get in, it would be easy to miss real talent in the crowd of wannabe Quidditch players.” She shrugged.

“So what you are saying is that Durmstrang doesn’t care where you are from as long as you are special in some way. Rich or a Quidditch star or whatever. Is that why they don’t accept muggleborns, they don’t think they have enough connections in the magical world, political or otherwise?” asked Harry, trying to make sense of everything.

“Well, mostly they are probably just stuck up, arrogant bastards about all this blood purity thing, but that may factor in too.”

After a blink, Harry burst out laughing. He couldn’t help it, hearing Hermione say things like that. Looking over, he saw her grinning back.

He was startled out of his mirth by a strange coughing noise and found it coming from Ron’s bed. “Ron? Is he here? Are you here? What are you doing? Were you sleeping or something, I thought you weren’t in the tower at all when you weren’t with Hermione.”

There were some noises of someone moving on the bed and then curtains were pulled aside, revealing their friend, red-faced and grim.

“Uh… I… Oh dang it, I was mad at you okay? At first, Hermione was leaving and now you too! And you didn’t even tell me! UGH!” he took the last few steps to Harry’s bed and flung himself between them.

“Ron! Would you give it a rest already!” cried Hermione, frustration pouring out of her in waves. “I am tired of your whining. Can’t you be happy for me? This, going to Beauxbatons, is something I really, really want to do. I was so happy today when I was chosen. Am I not allowed to be happy?”

Ron’s eyes grew big as he started to register the danger of an angry and upset female best friend. He shot a confused and helpless look to Harry, silently begging him to help. His dark haired friend just shot him an incredulous look back, clearly communicating his similar lack of clue on how to deal with upset Hermoine.

Ron threw his hands up in surrender.

“Yeah, okay, you want to go! Fine! Just, we are friends, right? We should… we should be together, right? You know mum won’t allow any of us going, not after Charlie and Bill. They live abroad and almost never come home! And the money is tight…” he trailed off, blushing in frustrated embarrassment. He took a deep breath.

“So I thought if I can’t go, you two will stay with me,” he whispered. “Here, I mean. And then you insisted and wanted to take Harry with you and it was…”

Ron quieted down, his gaze stubbornly directed to his hands.

“Oh…” breathed Hermione. “You thought that we are, what, leaving you behind? That’s not what this is about, Ron,” she said gently.

“Oh really? What is it, then?” grumbled the redhead sullenly, embarrassed.

“It’s just an exchange program. We are still best friends, right? So what if we are in different schools for a year, it won’t change anything! We can still write each other, and we will see each other during winter holidays,” she tried placating her friend.

“Harry can’t have Hedwig with him, he said so himself.”

Harry nodded furiously, fearing that as well.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Do you two honestly think we won’t be able to write each other because of that? Durmstrang can’t prevent students from writing their parents and friends, they probably just have a different system of sending letters. Durmstrang is really far North, I doubt Hedwig could handle a journey all the way there and back to Hogwarts too often anyway.”

“But does he have to go to Durmstrang?” asked Ron. “What about the Dark magic they teach there? Can’t he just say it was a mistake and stay at Hogwarts?”

“Yeah, I really don’t think I want to go to a Dark school. Can’t I just un-enrol?” nodded Harry.

“Look, if it really was a ‘Dark school’, do you think Dumbledore would allow the exchange program? It’s probably just some cultural misunderstanding. I doubt Harry would be forced to do anything illegal,” mediated Hermione. “And I’m afraid it’s mandatory for you to go, now that you were chosen. You are one student short, to begin with.”

“What do you mean?” inquired Harry.

“You only have eleven students, surely you noticed? There are just two Hufflepuffs going,” said Hermione.

Ron snickered.

“I think you should go, Harry,” Hermione steered the conversation back on track. “I really do think this is an amazing opportunity for all of us. It would be a waste not to take it.”

“Well, I suppose,” sighed Harry. “I did learn something new already. It’s a different variation of a Translation charm, called Allspeak. It’s multidirectional.”

“Oh, oh really?! Is that why you were taking so long? Can you show me?” exclaimed Hermione excitedly.

“I didn’t actually learn it. I can’t do it yet.”

“Can you show her tomorrow?” yawned Ron. “I don’t know about you, but I’m knackered. And if we don’t open the door someone will blow it open, probably Seamus.”

“Ah right,” said Hermione sheepishly. “You’re right. We’ll talk tomorrow.” With the last pat on Harry’s shoulder, she stood up and went to unlock the door to the dorm room. Past her, Harry could see peeved expressions of his dorm mates.

“Oh, shut it!” barked Ron crankily, before Seamus could even open his mouth. “I’m going to bed, I’m not answering any of your questions.”

Harry was relieved to be able silently ready himself for bed without being pestered for answers, and he fell asleep knowing that as long as he has his friends all would be alright.

* * *

 

The next day started in a flurry of packing and preparation. On Ron’s urging, Harry bundled up all muggle clothes and contraptions to be sent to the Burrow for safe keeping. Harry trusted his friend to know how purebloods would react to muggle things and the importance of a good first impression in lofty circles.

“Mum’s a Prewett. They are a pureblood line, going way back. Dad never talks about muggles or his job at Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office when we visit them. ‘S better that way. Best you do the same.”

Somewhere along the way he was nabbed by the Weasley Twins, who dragged him to his room, took his trunk and possessions and proceeded to cast numerous charms upon them.

“Best not leave anything to chance, Harry old boy!” they exclaimed.

“Best charm something you don’t need…”

“…than regret not having charmed it when it gets stolen…”

“…or damaged…”

“…or blown up…”

“…or… well, you get the idea.”

Harry felt the beginning of a headache.

“What are you two doing, exactly?”

“Oh, a few things!”

“Nothing major, just a few Expansion charms, Gred is good at those.”

“And some hexes, anti-thieves ones and such…”

“…durability charms, anti-flame, water-resistant…”

“…a few loose-me-not's…”

“…feather-light…”

“…anti-bite ones…”

“…very important, those, you can bring the trunk against an Acromantula now, not get a scratch on it…”

“…not that we tested that, not at all!”

“All right!” shouted Harry. “WHY do I need all this?”

The Twins looked at him pityingly.

“You are going to Durmstrang, Harrikins,” one of them said, slowly as if talking to a child.

“It will be like living in Slytherin for a year. You never know what will happen, so better be prepared.”

“Now come here, young grasshopper, we shall teach you our ways.”

“You are a Weasley friend and we will make sure you are best prepared. Yes indeed!” they shouted theatrically.

In the end, Harry had to suffer through a three-hour long Durmstrang survival lesson and gained a respectful fear of his two helpers. The Twins truly were terrifying and took mischief to a whole new level.

Lunch was the first time Harry saw Hermione and she looked stressed. Her hair was bushier than usual and she charmed a piece of parchment to hover before her as she read from it. Every once in awhile she scratched something on it, between bites of food.

“Um, Herm?” prompted Ron cautiously.

She blinked at them, apparently just noticing their presence.

“Harry! Did you pack everything? Did you make a list of everything you’ll need? Oh right, we have to go and ask about the mail system between the three schools. And you have to teach us Allspeak before you go. Merlin, I still have so much to do!” she exclaimed, frazzled.

“Breathe, Hermione. We have a whole day,” soothed Harry.

“Yeah, where’s the fire? You have enough time,” added Ron.

“Right. Okay.” she huffed.

Her friends just smiled at her in her element, which was preparing for every eventuality.

In the end, all was arranged. Hedwig would be staying with Ron and his family, they learned that all post would travel between countries via vanishing boxes, as all international post does, and Harry and his friends finally got around mastering the Allspeak charm, despite Ron’s grumbling about him not needing it at Hogwarts.

Despite being busy with the preparations during the day Harry wasn’t ignorant of all the looks he was getting from the rest of the school. Most of Gryffindor looked betrayed and angry, Slytherins were torn somewhere between disgust and glee, Hufflepuffs appeared distrustful of him and his motives and Ravenclaws watched his every move. Somehow to Harry, this seemed even worse than the outcry during the Parseltongue incident in second year or the whispering in the third. This time, he knew he brought it onto himself and couldn’t even defend himself. His own conflicted thoughts and emotions on the topic didn’t help. On any given hour he happened to agree with one of the groups. He was angry with himself for turning in an application at all, for his decision to actually go to Durmstrang, distrustful of his new school and all Hogwarts students who chose to go there, interrupted by the periods of brooding. He had gotten used to Hogwarts, the professors here, the constant presence of his friends, their help in his everyday interactions with others and as a buffer against the outside world. Every time he tried to imagine losing that he felt lost and vaguely panicky. Probably, he thought glumly, exactly how Ron felt. Alone.

Dinner that day was a tense affair. Harry didn’t have much appetite and looking over to his friends, they didn’t either. There were more speeches, from the headmaster and the ministry officials, but Harry couldn’t concentrate. He poked at his dessert and took the last taste of pumpkin juice.

During the trek back to the dorm he was approached by some so-called well-wishers, usually accompanied by joking comments along the lines of “surviving the dark wizards, he did it once before”. Hermione looked murderous at those, so they at least got the hint and quickly dispersed.

Luckily Ron came up with the idea of chess before bed and the distraction of his easy and pathetic loss was enough to make him relax. The rest of the evening was almost pleasant, being surrounded by his best friends, lounging in front of the warm fireplace, Ron joking and Hermione quietly reading and laughing good naturally every time he lost the game.

* * *

 

The next morning, Harry woke as the dawn broke and the first rays shone through the tower window. He was disoriented at first, out of breath from a dream about him oversleeping and running after the Durmstrang delegation after they already left.

A quick _tempus_ later made him groan. It was much too early, but now he was reluctant to fall back asleep in fear of making his upsetting dream come true. After getting dressed and finishing his morning ablutions, he decided to be proactive and read a few more chapters of his Defence book. Constant vigilance, especially in a dark wizard den, if Professor Moody was to be believed.

Breakfast was especially noisy that morning. Harry and his friends were sombre, uneasy about being apart so soon after coming back together. It was scary, going into an unknown situation without trusty support from Ron and Hermione at his side. He relied on them so much, and then suddenly they were going to be miles away. There were last minute speeches, encouragements and such, but Harry didn’t really hear them. Across the table, Hermione was tearing up, and Ron went strangely quiet.

It was a few minutes until nine when Harry and Hermione came down from the tower with their trunks levitating after them. The whole school gathered in the entry hall to see some of their students depart for the year abroad, saying tearful and cheerful goodbyes.

“Oh, I’m going to miss you!” burst out Hermione. “You better write, both of you!” And then she jumped and almost tackled them in a hug. Harry stiffened and Ron squeaked, but in the end, they held on just as tight. Harry made his way to the Durmstrang group, acutely feeling every foot separating him from his friends. He felt like he was leaving his safe haven and stepping into an unknown world. He saw Dunbar saying her half-hearted goodbye to her friends, then turning to him and grinning excitedly. Her joy was plainly visible and he couldn’t help but smile back.

This new path might be a little terrifying, but it was also thrilling. And maybe he won’t be as alone as he feared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had this much already written, the next chapter won't be posted as fast. I hope you like it!


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